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Open Poetry #24
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Thisman
Junior Member
since 2003-01-21
Posts 19


0 posted 2003-01-28 08:31 PM


hollow meadow sacrosanct
field of standing stones
babies, old hags
drawn close by scarcity of land

a farmer has drawn furrows
close to illustrated this
missing by inches
heads, toes, rotting boxes

I am in attendance but adrift
one foot on elm's root
I arc above becoming
a wish, a vapor

buoyed by husks of life
I am thus borne up
rising
(ever higher, ever faster)

one mile over sirens scream
next?
I am a filament now
an arrow pointing at

the setting sun
cannot be snared
by grasping clay
nor memories

dead earth,
this is not the day
of our appointment
I can wait, it says

next?

© Copyright 2003 Thisman - All Rights Reserved
Tari Miriel
Member
since 2003-01-28
Posts 69
The state of mind
1 posted 2003-01-28 08:36 PM


Thisman,

I am liking your style,
the journey and vision...
this poem is *awesome*~

Tari

Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354
Listening to every heart
2 posted 2003-01-28 08:54 PM


Sir...
I reside on the plains...
your poem did a remarkable thing.

It swung from 100 years ago
to today,
and back again...
and I applaud you...

it was good, and I think you will produce better works
as time will tell.

Looking forward to more from you...

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